


Fly, Nightingale

by WildThoughtsEscape



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Civil War, Dragons, Drama & Romance, Elder Scrolls Lore, F/M, Fantasy, Guildmaster - Freeform, Imperials (Elder Scrolls), Minor Character Death, Slavery, Stormcloaks (Elder Scrolls), Thieves Guild (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildThoughtsEscape/pseuds/WildThoughtsEscape
Summary: Two years after the events within the thieves guild and slaying of the world-eater, civil war is still rife in Skyrim, with both sides desperate to recruit the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn has more pressing matters to attend to than picking sides in a war where the only true winners are the Thalmor, such as a series of mysterious, indecipherable runes popping up throughout the province that no one seems to be paying attention to. Who is putting them there and what do they mean? The other pressing matter is the straining relationship between the Guildmaster and her second in command, as he insists on keeping their arrangement a secret to protect the guild and seems to be more dedicated to the worship of Dibella than Mara.
Relationships: Brynjolf/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Comments: 20
Kudos: 32





	1. Loredas, First Seed, Riften

**Author's Note:**

> I am taking liberties with the Skyrim plotlines/realm and will do my best to keep things in canon or canon-adjacent. I've been interested in taking the Thieves Guild/BrynjolfxFemale Dovahkiin beyond what plot already exists in the game while keeping it relatively canon. A lot of stories already explore the Thieves Guild questlines and I wanted to go a bit beyond that. In my Skyrim "world", this is a relatively large province where it takes more than a few days to get from one side to the other, and there are more towns and locations than what exists in the in-game map. Please keep the tags in mind (I will notify at the beginning of chapters if any particularly sensitive tags apply), leave feedback, and let me know of any glaring errors, as this is not beta'd. This is my first publicly-posted work.

**Chapter One: Loredas, First Seed, Riften**

Kallie woke with a start, vermillion hair pinned painfully beneath an elbow that she regretfully only discovered after attempting to lift her head to peer up towards the object of her annoyance. A persistent knock at the Honeyside door sounded in the otherwise quiet, dark house. The embers in the fireplace had long since burned out.

“Ow, Bryn. Watch it!” The Nord woman hissed, swatting the offending arm off her hair.

“Sorry, Lass.” Brynjolf muttered sleepily, rolling to his side. The man’s soft snores resumed. The knock sounded louder, angrier. For a thief, Brynjolf could sleep through everything. Grabbing Brynjolf’s robe, Kallie hastily wrapped it around herself, stumbling to the door.

“I’m coming!”

Yanking the door open, the Dragonborn had a shout ready at her lips, prepared to force the intruder off her doorstep for their ungodly persistence late into the night.

“Vex.” Kallie stared at the woman stood at her front door in alarm. Vex did not make social calls at this hour. Especially not when she was the only other person in the guild privy to Brynjolf’s and her agreed _arrangement_ , after walking in on them in the Ratway. Ever since that incident, Brynjolf insisted on pleasure only outside business walls, a rule Kallie was still willing to stubbornly and passionately argue against.

“Guildmaster.” Vex crossed her arms, clearly not happy to be at the Honeyside doorstep either. Kallie stepped outside, closing the door softly behind her. Shivering, Kallie pulled the robe tighter around her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Rune’s been caught on the job. Our fence in Markarth alerted me. And as you happen to be the Thane for Jarl Igmund, I figured you’d want to know. You know, smooth things over and all. A simple misunderstanding.”

Kallie sighed, eyes rolling up to the waning moon as she watched her breath freeze into little clouds in the freezing, night air.

“Okay, I’ll head to Markarth.” Vex nodded, needing no further words exchanged, and promptly turned on her heel and back to the cistern.

“Is everything alright, Lass?” A pair of arms wrapped around Kallie soon after closing the door, Brynjolf sleepily pulled the petite woman into his chest, chin resting atop her unruly, curly mane of hair.

“I have to head to Markarth. Rune’s been caught. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Brynjolf sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I told Vex not to accept that job, it was too dangerous. We can afford to turn people away now. All thanks to our Guildmaster, by the way.” Brynjolf stole a kiss as Kallie pushed herself out of his embrace to gather her things. In any other instance, Kallie would have melted into his embrace, perhaps allowed him to coax her back into the still-warm bed for the remainder of the night. But the guild was her family, and her family needed her help.

“Promise me you’ll be safe, lass. Cidhna Mine and the people who run it is dangerous, Thane to the Jarl or not.” Brynjolf’s thumb danced over the woman’s lips and he pulled her in for a quick kiss before she could slip out of the house.

“I promise I’ll be careful. Don’t miss me too much or you’ll give away your dirty little secret to the guild.” Kallie smirked up at her red-haired lover.

“Let’s not get into that now. We’ll talk when you get back. Just focus on getting the job done.” Brynjolf snuck one last kiss in before the door closed on him.

\---

Saddling Cricket, her temperamental, black Gypsy Vanner, Kallie silently prayed for Nocturnal to guide her on her journey into the night.

Swiping an extra saddle bag belonging to the stable should the practiced thief find some valuables along the way, Kallie headed off towards the mountainside town. Cidhna Mine was a dangerous beast to go up against, but the Guildmaster always made sure her family returned home, dead or alive. Besides, if she could slay the world-eater, breaking a friend out of Cidhna Mine was child’s play.


	2. Turdas, First Seed, Markarth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first rune is spotted. A brief glance into Kallie's relationship with Brynjolf.

She almost missed it and nearly jumped out of her skin when she noticed it, startling the poor horse in the process. On the rocky path leading to Markarth was, at first glance, what appeared to be a fire rune on the path ahead. Hand on the hilt of her dagger, Kallie tuned in to the sounds around her, eyes scanning the barren, rocky hills for the culprit. Years of thieving and adventuring across the oftentimes dangerous lands of Skyrim taught her many things, but it most importantly taught Kallie paranoia. Swinging a leg over her horse, Kallie quietly dismounted. Glancing back at the rune, the Nord woman did a double-take.

“What in the Divines is that?” The rune was carved into the earth and stone pathway, quite unlike runic spells cast by mages that merely sat atop the surface, waiting for the unsuspecting victim. Although not well versed in the arcane arts by any means, the thief was very familiar with rune traps used to deter people like her from the treasures hidden throughout Skyrim.

“This doesn’t look like a fire rune.” Sure enough, the carving in the center of the circle was not the symbol of destruction used by mages. With furrowed brows and a second glance of her surroundings, as a thief can never be too careful, Kallie stood and grabbed her notebook and charcoal out of the saddlebag. Afraid to touch or get near it in case the mysterious carving was indeed some sort of trap, Kallie kept a healthy distance in her research. After copying the mysterious symbol and marking the page with the date and location, Kallie looked around one last time in paranoia before mounting Cricket.

“Well boy, I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my life, but never that.” Kallie pat the neck of her horse, coaxing it into a trot. The strange carving in the earth left her with a strange feeling, and Kallie wanted to get as far away from the rune as possible. If she could convince Cricket to keep up a quick pace, she’d make it to Markarth by nightfall and hopefully far away from whatever left the marking in the ground.

\---

“Greetings, Dragonborn.” The Markarth guard nodded in Kallie’s direction as she trotted to the stable. The sun was fully set behind the city and its rocky hills, but the tints of red hadn’t yet fully relinquished their grasp on the midnight sky.

Entering the city proper, Kallie headed straight to the Silver-Blood Inn to secure a room for the next two nights. It would be too late to request a meeting with the Jarl, and Rune would unfortunately have to wait one more night in the mine, assuming he was still there. Kallie was exhausted from her travel, body aching for a proper bed, and couldn’t afford to botch this job. Choosing not to think about the alternatives, Kallie maneuvered through the crowd of regulars, pilfering coin purses off a few unsuspecting victims who clearly didn’t have enough intelligence to keep their purses out of reach of wandering hands.

_They didn’t deserve the coin if they’re just going to make it that easy to steal_. Kallie always thought.

“I need a room for the night.” Kallie deposited one of the pilfered purses onto the bar counter.

“Why, the Dragonborn graces us with her presence!” Kleppr passed Kallie a bottle of mead and a promise that the empty room was hers for the night in exchange for the sack of coins.

“I apologize Kleppr, but this isn’t a social call. Official business with the Jarl.” A thought crept into Kallie’s head and the words were out of her mouth before she could fully stop them.

“Hey, you haven’t happened to hear anything about runic carvings around here, have you?” Kallie’s first source of rumors and gossip had always been the inns, as drunkards weren’t renowned for keeping their mouths shut and their selves out of trouble.

“What are you talking about? You’re not starting any trouble again, are you?” Kleppr eyed Kallie suspiciously. Markarth was not immune to the troubles of Skyrim amidst the civil war, and Kleppr was not about to let anyone, not even the Dragonborn, come into his city and create problems. Especially not when Kallie had previously gotten into trouble for sticking her nose around the rumor mills in Markarth.

“Nothing, I was just curious if you heard anything.” Knowing when to keep her mouth shut, Kallie dropped the conversation and quickly finished her mead before bidding the barkeep a good night.

Kicking off her boots and shrugging off the armor that Brynjolf had gifted her upon receiving her status as Guildmaster, Kallie collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. Brynjolf was a task she’d have to tackle immediately upon returning to Riften, and she was _not_ looking forward to it.

The truth was, and Kallie was much too afraid to vocalize it herself, that Brynjolf and her wanted and expected different things from each other. Recalling the last time they argued over it, renewed anger and frustration washed over Kallie like a warm flame.

_“I’m not interested in practicing the following of Mara, if you catch my drift. Or starting a family. Me? With children? Are you out of your mind, lass? Do you even know what you’re asking from someone who lives in the tunnels beneath Riften and spends his days stealing coin from the unsuspecting pocket?” Brynjolf was laying next to her in the massive Honeyside bed. The ginger head was propped in his hand, peering down at her with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes as if trying to decipher a particularly vexing puzzle he’d been going at for days._

_“Bryn, it’s perfectly normal to be afraid of those thoughts –“ Brynjolf cut Kallie off with a huff._

_“It’s not that I’m afraid, lass. It’s that it’s just not a good match. Why ruin what we have?”_

_“Because what we have is only working for you.” Kallie sat up and angrily pointed her finger at the red-haired Nord._

_“For something that’s only working for me –“ Brynjolf emphasized the word by pointing at his chest in similar fashion to her own accusatory gesture “- you sure do seem to be okay with the current arrangement as you have yet to turn me away.” Kallie’s eyes watered in angry tears as her frustration and stubborn nature got the better of her. It was impossible to turn Brynjolf away, and Kallie hated to admit the weakness. She knew Brynjolf and her were mismatched, but she kept coming back to him anyway and he knew that. He didn’t stop her either against his better judgment, so really, he was equally at fault. Damn that silver tongue of his.  
  
_

_“I’m tired of being treated like a dirty secret, Bryn. You won’t tell anyone, you won’t let me tell anyone, and the only one of us getting everything they want out of this is you.” Kallie hastily swiped at an errant tear that had escaped and looked away from the man causing the anguish._

_“Lass. You’re not a dirty secret. It’s just safer to keep our personal lives and matters separate from Guild business.” Brynjolf cupped her chin and gently coaxed her to return her gaze to him, eyes softening._

_“We are terrible for each other and we both know that. But there is something about you I cannot and don’t want to give up. Be happy that we both have each other. For a thief, that’s more than either of us could ever ask for. We got lucky, lass. Our paths are too dangerous to request such desires.”_

_Kallie dropped the argument for now as Brynjolf kissed his way down her neck, but she knew, and she had a feeling Brynjolf also knew, that it would resurface in a matter of time. It always did._

_Focus on the task, Guildmaster._ Kallie heard Brynjolf speak in her head, as if reprimanding her wandering mind all the way from Riften.

“Get out of my head, Bryn.” Kallie rubbed her face with her palms as if she could scrub out that honeyed lilt through sheer force and power of will. The room in the inn suddenly felt much too claustrophobic for the thief.

\---

**Fredas, First Seed, Markarth**

  
The rune was no longer there the following day. After securing a letter from the Jarl that her friend was to be released, Kallie marched straight to the mine. Now, Kallie was back on the path to Riften, the stolen horse ridden by her friend following beside her. Kallie stopped her horse on the path and blinked, eyes glued to the spot that should have been carved into the earth.

“Is everything alright?” Kallie briefly glanced over at her friend out of the corner of her eye. Her mouth opened but the words refused to spill forth.

“Yeah.” The word sounded mangled and was unconvincing, even to her. She wasn’t crazy right? There definitely had been a carving on the path.

“I just need to check something quick. Ride ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure?” Rune looked carefully at his Guildmaster, clearly unconvinced.

“Yeah, just go on ahead. I’ll only be a minute.” Kallie waved her friend off and turned around in the saddle, searching in one of the bags for her journal. Hastily flipping the pages, Kallie located the page with the mysterious figure drawn into it.  
  


“So I’m not crazy then.” Kallie muttered to herself, sparing one more glance at the location the carving _should_ be before stuffing the book back in the bag and signaling her horse to start moving. A chill ran up her spine and her instincts told her eyes were watching her, but she could not spot anything out of the ordinary along the path. Signaling her horse to move faster, Kallie raced to catch up with Rune. _Safer in groups,_ Kallie said to herself. Her instincts were telling her something was wrong, and a thief quickly learned to trust their instincts.

“What was that about?” Rune slowed his horse to a walk as Kallie’s own trotted up next to him.

“I…thought I heard something drop from the saddlebag and I stopped to search for it. Turns out I imagined it, everything is fine.“ Kallie didn’t buy the lie herself, but she hoped Rune did. Brynjolf was the silver tongue of the group and she usually let him do the talking.

“If you’re sure.” Rune may not have bought the lie, but he knew when to drop it.

“Yeah. Let’s just hurry and get back to Riften. Don’t want to get caught by patrol with all these stolen goods in our bags.” Kallie grinned at her friend, steering the conversation away.

“Lead the way, boss.” Rune grinned back. The sooner they were back in Riften, the better.


	3. Tirdas, First Seed, Riften

Chapter Three: Tirdas, First Seed, Riften

By the time they’d reached the outer limits of Riften, and with nearly two weeks of straight travel for Kallie, the Guildmaster was dead on her feet. Eager to crawl into her bed at Honeyside, Kallie gained a second wind at the prospect of a tankard of mead and warm bowl of stew in her home. The sun was just starting to dip beyond the mountains and if Kallie moved fast enough, she could catch the tail end of it from her home.

"Eager to return home?" Kallie smiled at her friend as Rune signaled his horse to pick up the pace.

"No, I just want a tankard of mead." Rune grinned back.

"Well don't let Brynjolf give you shit for getting caught or tell him you'll send the Guildmaster after him. I've got plenty of embarrassing stories on that man." The pair settled into an easy silence, the only sound the chirping of the birds, and then the insects in a changing of the guard as the day passed into the hands of night.

"How about you, Guildmaster. Anyone looking after you?" Rune asked as the pair approached the stables, dismounting their horses.

"What do you mean?" Kallie blinked slowly at Rune. He also didn't know about her and Brynjolf's secret, did he?

"Well I just thought I'd check in, as you're always looking after us. You know, in a mother or sister kind of way. Like when you yell at us if we leave for a job without taking enough supplies or try to go back out on another run before a proper night's sleep. Is anyone checking in on you?"

"I've got everything I need. As long as the Guild is doing fine, then so am I. So quit getting into trouble!" The smile shared between the two friends as they approached the secret entrance belied Kallie's stern, motherly tone. If Kallie hadn't known what she did about Rune's troubled past, she'd have been uncertain about the Imperial's abilities as a thief considering his caring and overly friendly demeanor. But if she was going to have anyone watching her back, Rune would be one of those few people she trusted to do so. Kallie vowed to herself that she would find out who Rune's parents were, if only to repay him for the kindness he bestowed upon her.

"Besides, I'm younger than most of you so I take being called mother as an insult." Kallie kicked the button, revealing the stone steps to the cistern.

"Well now, look who's back. And he brought trouble back with him." Brynjolf smirked at Kallie as she and Rune descended the ladder.

"It takes trouble to know trouble, thief." Kallie returned Brynjolf's smirk with one of her own, patting his chest as she walked past him to the desk they shared.

"What's this?" A scroll of parchment with spiky black ink penned on it sat waiting for her. Kallie could tell it had recently arrived at her desk, as the parchment bounced back into its rolled-up shape when she released it. She unwound it again and stuck the almost empty inkwell on the top of the page to keep it in place. I keep forgetting to purchase more ink. Rough, worn hands entered her line of sight, settling on both sides of the parchment she was inspecting.

"Straight to business, lass?" Kallie peered up at the man she was sleeping with, unbeknownst to the others in the cistern. Raising an eyebrow at him, Kallie pondered his question. Brynjolf was becoming both her downfall and her refuge and she couldn't figure out which way the scales were tipping. She physically ached for him as much as she ached for him to understand her frustrations and fears and give her an inch when she gave him a mile.

"I believe that's your rule, not mine." Brynjolf gave a soft laugh, mirth in his eyes as Kallie goaded her second in command. She remembered the first time she had discussed their "meetings" with the man. Almost like a business arrangement, she remembered saying to him as he silenced her qualms with a kiss.

"Well if by business you mean between the sheets, then by all means, lass, let's get straight to business." Kallie glanced past Brynjolf to see everyone had vacated the cistern, seeking refuge in the Ragged Flagon as if they seemed to know the Guildmaster needed a minute alone with her second.

"What is this letter about?" Kallie ignored Brynjolf's sexual advances and leaned back on the chair, propping her boot-clad feet on the table. Heaving a frustrated sigh over being ignored, the ginger-haired Nord sat on top of the desk.

"You'd know if you read it."

"Where's the fun in that when I can have that voice of yours read it for me?" Kallie beamed up at Brynjolf. It was incredibly easy to both stoke the man's ego and use it against him.

"Divines' sake, lass. You're something else." Brynjolf grumbled but swiped the letter off the table, toppling the inkwell over.

"Kallie, and Brynjolf in parentheses." Brynjolf's distinctive burr echoed in the cavernous chamber. "I hope this letter finds you and the guild well. It has come to my attention that there is a potential ally from Falkreath who may be able to move goods on a more permanent basis. If you are interested in establishing a relationship in Falkreath, you can find me at the brewery where I will be hosting this person until the end of First Seed. I will take your absence as a lack of interest and will tell them to be on their way and carry on unaware. I do trust this person to remain discrete regardless of the decision you make. Signed, Mallus Maccius." Brynjolf tossed the letter back onto the desk where it curled up and fluttered to the stone floor.

"So, Falkreath. Seems like a big risk for such a small town. Not much activity can happen there." Kallie ran her fingers through her hair, calculating the risks of meeting Mallus and this mysterious figure.

"Correct, but it can give us one more hold in Skyrim to have our influence on." Kallie could tell Brynjolf was busy counting the potential coin in the guild's coffers at the opportunity.

"Doesn't the Dark Brotherhood operate there? I'm hesitant to set up operations in their territory."

"We can always meet with this person but offer no promises." Brynjolf offered.

"Leave in the morning, then?" Kallie mentally calculated the time that would be spent traveling and hoped to only be gone just shy of seven days, maybe swipe a few valuables for Tonilia while visiting Whiterun.

"You only just got back, lass. Am I going to have to take care of you, keep you bed-ridden until I deem you fit to travel?" Brynjolf slipped off the desk and rounded it to lean against its side next to Kallie. He crossed his arms in mock frustration, eyeing Kallie like she was a child caught out of bed.

"Okay, we'll leave the day after. That's my final offer."

"Whatever the Guildmaster says."

"Oh good, then we can tell the guild we're sleeping together if it's whatever I say." Kallie stared at Brynjolf, challenge in her eyes. Brynjolf gave a dry laugh. She didn't quite know why, but this was a fight she was always ready to pick with him. Validation, perhaps, that she meant more to him than something to be kept in the shadows? Or maybe longing for him to give in to her for a change?

"Okay, you want to fight, lass? I'll see you tonight at Honeyside. I'll bring the mead. Get those fists ready." Brynjolf grazed his lips against Kallie, a promise of what was to come later, and left her alone with her thoughts to join the others in the Flagon. Rubbing her hands over her face, Kallie groaned at the turn their conversation took.

"Why do I always want to pick a fight with that man?" Kallie asked the room, knowing no one would be around to answer. Pushing herself up off the chair, Kallie quickly gathered her travel bag and stuffed the letter inside before racing back up the ladder to Riften.

  
\---

  
Unlocking the door to Honeyside, Kallie quickly toed off her boots and slipped out of her armor, depositing everything neatly at the foot of her bed. A creature of habit, Kallie always made sure to keep her space tidy and oftentimes did so without even realizing she was doing it. Lighting the fire to warm up the place, Kallie finally felt the tension leaving her shoulders from her journey. Hoping to catch the tail end of the setting sun outside the waterfront entrance to her home, Kallie grabbed a bottle of spiced wine and slid into her robe, padding barefoot out the door.

Upon opening the back door, Kallie gasped and stumbled back into the house. The bottle of spiced wine slipped through her fingers and onto the creaky, wood floor, hundreds of tiny shards pooling into a sea of red. On the landing just outside her door was another figure carved into the wood, in what looked to be a similar pattern to the first figure she had found on the road to Markarth. Kallie's blood ran cold, convinced she was being stalked. She slammed the door shut, locking it behind her. For good measure, she shoved one of her stout bookshelves in front of it.

A wave of paranoia once again washed over her, and Kallie was convinced an intruder was in her house. With her trusty daedric dagger in hand, Kallie crept through her house as if she was the intruder searching for signs of trouble. She kept to the shadows as she peered around corners seeking out the intruder, cloaked by Nocturnal.

"Please hurry up, Brynjolf." Kallie pleaded to herself under her breath. After clearing out the last room in the house, Kallie deemed it safe and free of intruders. Still shaken and filled with dread and unease, the thief jumped at every creak of the wood, every crackle of the fire. Quietly walking to the window lest the mysterious individual who left the marking be waiting outside her door, Kallie peered through the small gap of the curtain to see that the wood floor was still etched, but no unwanted visitors were there. Grabbing her book, Kallie flipped to the page containing her drawing of the first runic figure and drew the new one - two angled lines, one drawn upward and above the second angled downward, forming a point to the left.

"Who is doing this, and why?" Slamming the book shut, Kallie crossed the room to the front door where she dumped her traveling bag on a hook. She had no sooner deposited the book back into the bag than the door beside her slammed open. Screaming, Kallie drew her dagger on the intruder, dragging them into the house, kicking the door closed with her foot.

"Woah, lass! It's just me!" Wrestling Kallie off him, Brynjolf pinned the woman beneath him, wrenching the dagger out of her vice-like grip.

"Shor's bones, lass. What the hell has gotten into you?" Brynjolf panted above Kallie, energy spent in their short but deadly tussle. Relaxing her body, Kallie dropped her head down onto the hard floor with a dull thud, completely sapped of energy.

"I thought you were an intruder."

"Aye, I got that part. But what about the part where you tried to kill me?"

"I think someone - or something - is stalking me. I thought you were them and I lost control." Kallie deadpanned.

"That's a serious claim to make. Why do you think that, other than your unrelenting paranoia?" Brynjolf released Kallie from his grip, rolling off her. Extending an arm, Brynjolf pulled her up and against his chest, concern clearly displayed on his face. He brushed an errant lock of hair out of the way.

"There was something outside the back door when I came home. A...carving for lack of better word, in some symbol or language I cannot decipher. On the floor just outside the door." Kallie grabbed the journal she had put away moments before, flipping to the page containing the drawing of the two carved figures.

"Okay." Brynjolf said slowly. "What's that got to do with someone stalking you?"

"I found one on the road outside Markarth. It was a different symbol. When I came back the next day, it was gone."

"Well let's see this carving then." Brynjolf crossed the house to the back entrance, hand on his enchanted glass dagger in a show of safety. Mouth suddenly dry, Kallie followed behind him, just able to peer over his shoulder. Brynjolf pushed the door open and it slammed against the side of the wall with a heavy bang.

"What are you on about, lass? There's nothing here."


	4. Tirdas, First Seed, Riften

Chapter Four: Tirdas, First Seed, Riften

“What do you mean there’s nothing there?” Kallie angrily pushed her way past Brynjolf, adamant he was wrong. She had seen the carving. It was right outside the door! Brynjolf was just blind as a Falmer.  
  


“I don’t know what to tell you, lass. There isn’t anything there. Perhaps you’re just tired and seeing things.” Kallie stared at the wood floor where she had seen the carving. Only there wasn’t anything there. No evidence of the mark either, as if the wood had fully repaired itself and erased all evidence of whatever had been placed there. Crouching down, Kallie traced the floor with her fingers where she had seen the carving. Her breath caught in her chest and she struggled to breathe as panic bubbled to the surface. Her eyes began to water, but in fear or frustration, she couldn’t yet tell.  
  


“No.” Kallie abruptly stood and turned to face Brynjolf, eyes wide and head shaking vigorously. “Brynjolf I swear, there was something there. The book. I drew it in the book, it was there! I saw it!” Kallie moved back into the house for her journal. Brynjolf caught her arm when she strode back over to him, clutching her journal like it was a key to the puzzle.  
  


“Lass.” Brynjolf’s eyes softened as he pulled Kallie to face him. Grabbing her chin, he forced her to look at him, eyes filled with unshed tears. Something had clearly frightened her. They would argue about their pseudo-relationship some other time, but tonight Brynjolf needed to focus on the hysterical woman in front of him. Brynjolf pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at his Guildmaster.

“It was probably just a trick of the shadows. You’ve been traveling for a long time. Your body just needs to rest. Come, let me take care of you.” Brynjolf attempted to pull Kallie towards the bed but she dug her heels in, shaking her head aggressively. A few tears escaped when she clenched her eyes shut in desperation.  
  


“It wasn’t a trick of the shadows. I’m not seeing things either!” Kallie whined and pleaded like a child being sent off to bed, but she was not concerned about her behavior. “It was _real_ , Brynjolf. I have the drawings to prove it! One on the road to Markarth, and the other just outside my door! I’m not making this up!” She flipped her journal back open to the page with her drawings, shoving it under Brynjolf’s nose as if she could force him to see what she saw.

Brynjolf gently swatted the book away, concern in his eyes as he stared at his sobbing Guildmaster, unsure of what to do. It was no secret that Nords were a stubborn folk and it was all a matter of who would break first. Brynjolf had the sneaking suspicion that it would not be Kallie.

“Whatever you think you saw has clearly upset you. Come on, let’s go warm up by the fire.” Brynjolf threaded his fingers through the sash of Kallie’s robe and drew her in to his chest.

“I _did_ see it! Why don’t you believe me?” Kallie sobbed into Brynjolf’s chest, her journal falling through her loosened fingers to the floor.

“I believe you _think_ you saw something. But Kal, there was nothing there and you also saw that. You mentioned that the first one also disappeared when you went back to check.” Kallie nodded. Brynjolf brushed a lock of hair out of her eye, attempting to calm the woman down. “It very well may have been a trick of the light. There are many things out there designed to trick us and whatever you saw was likely one of them.”

“It was real. It was carved into the ground in a way that should have rendered it permanent. Or at least impossible to erase without leaving traces behind. Something put it there with the intention of me seeing it.” Kallie pleaded through clenched teeth as she attempted to stem the flow of tears, begging for Brynjolf to believe her. He kissed the crown of her head and tightened his grip on her in response.

“Okay, lass. It was real.” She knew Brynjolf was merely humoring her and didn’t quite believe his own words. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, confirming her suspicions.

She was also aware that he knew she knew which made her angry and upset. What she did _not_ know, however, was how to convince him that the carvings had, at least at some point in time, been real. Allowing Brynjolf to drag her over to her bed, she obediently sat down and tucked her feet under her, defeated. Her eyelids became heavy and began to droop, despite her attempts to resist the fatigue creeping up on her. Brynjolf tidied the living space back up while she silently sat on the bed and watched. Eyeing the Guildmaster, Brynjolf sighed and sat at the foot of the bed, facing the woman.

“Look, I’m sorry that you’re not hearing what you want to hear from me. If it makes you feel even a little better, lass, I do worry that _something_ is threatening you, even if it’s just your own head.” Kallie nodded but didn’t acknowledge him through words. Was Brynjolf suggesting she was losing her mind? Kallie furrowed her brows in thought. She certainly didn’t feel crazy, but was that not what people who really _were_ losing their minds said?

She wanted to be angry with him. She _should_ be upset that he didn’t believe her, that he thought she was imagining everything she had seen. All she wanted to do was grab him by his collar and shake him while she yelled “believe me!” She wanted to feel safe, wanted encouragement and a sense of being understood and justified in her fears. She wanted her second in command to have her back, not question it. But what little energy she’d managed to save from her travels had been exhausted and she had nothing left to give him.

Brynjolf, sensing Kallie’s distress, crawled up the bed towards her. He covered her petite body with his own well-built frame, elbows coming to rest beside her head. He combed his fingers through Kallie’s hair as he peered down at her.

“If anything, or anyone is out there to harm you, they’ll have to go through me and Nocturnal first, and the guild second. It doesn’t matter what happens between us, the guild has your back. Even if it is driving you to the brink of madness.” Brynjolf smiled at his own attempt to lighten the mood with his humor, but unfortunately the poor timing of it did not help Kallie feel any better.

“Come on then, let’s feed you. Then off to bed with you. We will discuss the matter of our personal relationship some other night.” In her haste to persuade Brynjolf and fend off a possible intruder, Kallie completely forgot about Brynjolf’s original reasoning for entering her house tonight.

A new wave of dread filled Kallie as she remembered their prior conversations on the subject. Perhaps Brynjolf now thought she was too hysterical to have a rational conversation with. Maybe she really was starting to lose it? The Dragonborn had certainly been through more than enough of madness-inducing traumas and experiences than most in Skyrim, war or not. Or what if this was fuel to the fire that was their rocky pseudo-relationship? Preferring to tackle unpleasantries immediately, Kallie knew that the longer it took to have whatever conversation Brynjolf had planned, the more agitated her mental state would become. Still, she was much too exhausted to have a proper conversation and yielded to Brynjolf’s request for now.

But she couldn't shake the nagging thought creeping into the back of her head.

_Was this just the beginning of the end?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please feel free to leave feedback as this is my first story and any guidance or encouragement is appreciated!. Comments are greatly appreciated so I can get a sense of how people are responding to my work! Thank you xxooxx


	5. Middas, First Seed, The Rift

**Chapter 5: Middas, First Seed, The Rift.**

Shivering, Kallie wrapped her cloak tighter around her. Although nearing the end of First Seed, the harsh bite of winter insisted on sticking around a bit longer. Burrowing her nose in the worn, brown fur to warm it against the sting of the air, Kallie spurred her horse onward, begging Cricket to move faster. The sooner she got to Whiterun, the better she would feel. Or so she hoped. A small part of Kallie knew she was being difficult, but the voice inside her head was whispering Brynjolf deserved it.

Already a few hours north of Riften on horseback, the sun was only just beginning to peak over the line of trees. She could see the torches on the buildings in Shor’s Stone dotting the horizon and knew she was making good time. Brynjolf would be angry when he woke to an empty bed and discovered his Guildmaster departed without him, but she was still holding onto bitter anger from the previous night. The more distance she could place between herself and Brynjolf, the less likely he would be to catch her before she made it to Whiterun.

Kallie knew she had made a rash decision in leaving Brynjolf behind, but the Nord didn’t care. She’d deal with his anger and the repercussions when she returned and had put some space between them and he calmed down. She was hesitant to use the word betrayal to describe how she felt regarding the conversation she’d had with Brynjolf the night before, but she wasn’t sure how else to label it. She just knew that it stung for Brynjolf, a man she deeply cared about (and had hopes for a future with before he had squashed that idea), to believe she was out of her mind.

Kallie knew she would not have made it nearly as far in her life as she currently was if she didn’t quickly learn to trust her instincts. How _dare_ Brynjolf suggest she was seeing things? Feeling rage creep up on her, Kallie consciously loosened her clenched jaw and relaxed her shoulders, voiding her head of all thoughts to calm herself. Closing her eyes, the thief allowed Cricket to guide himself along the path as she worked on finding inner peace. She could not control what Brynjolf did, she could only control how she reacted to him and right now she was letting him distract her. Although the Thieves Guild was her life and blood, Kallie’s instincts told her that she might have to put a few responsibilities ahead of the guild as she figured out what the mysterious runic carvings were, who was sending them, and what they wanted from her. _Perhaps Brynjolf would have made a better Guildmaster._ Kallie could not help the thought that crept into her head as she fought to empty it, a heavy feeling settling in her stomach. If Brynjolf asked her to step down she was not sure she would fight it.

Kallie was not sure which thought terrified her more - Brynjolf believing her to be unfit to lead, or her own self-doubt over her capabilities to do so. A storm was indeed coming, however, and Kallie hoped she was picking the right path to navigate around it.

\---

**Fredas, First Seed, Somewhere Along the White River  
  
**

Dragging herself out of the fur-lined sleeping bag, Kallie stretched lazily as the sun’s rays seeped through the cracks of the abandoned shack she had found along the banks of the White River. Grateful to be out in the slightly warmer weather of the Whiterun Plains, Kallie allowed herself a few extra minutes before she headed out towards the river to bathe.

“Would have been nice if this was the hot springs instead.” Kallie mumbled to herself as she set a pot of water onto the fire she stoked to warm it for a hot breakfast before finishing the trek to Whiterun. Perhaps she’d take some time off and head out to the sulfur pools to clear her mind before returning to Riften. _You mean to avoid Brynjolf, you coward?_ Kallie brushed the thought from her head almost as swiftly as it entered.

Grabbing her linen and bar of soap from Cricket’s saddlebag, Kallie slipped out of her clothing, placing it and her boots on a large, flat rock as she stepped into the cool waters of the river. Dipping the soap in the water, Kallie lathered it before rubbing the bar into her skin. Not wishing to be caught naked by any wandering eyes, Kallie made quick work of cleaning her body.

Checking the fire just outside the shack to make sure it was still burning from her spot in the river, Kallie froze as her eyes traveled just beyond the firepit to the wall of the abandoned shack. On the wall of the was a carving that was _definitely_ not there last night or this morning, as she sat in front of that very spot only moments before. She would have noticed it. She would have unhitched her horse and moved out of there faster than she could whirlwind sprint.

On the wall just beyond the fire was a vertical carving. Two lines near the top of the figure were carved in a downward fashion to the right and about half the length of their vertical counterpart. Fear flowed like ice throughout Kallie as she stared at the carving in disbelief.  
  


“Why are you doing this to me?” Kallie whined, her eyes watering as she fought the urge to sob. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and Kallie suddenly felt as if she was being watched by something that wished her harm. Suddenly, the ice in her veins turned to white hot lead as rage replaced fear. Whoever was behind these carving was taunting her, mocking her. Kallie had enough.  
  


“Leave me alone!” Kallie spun on her heel to grab her clothing and fish out her dagger from her pocket, ready to both fight and flee. Unfortunately for Kallie, her foot was unable to properly grip the rocky floor of the river and she slipped, hand swiping through the air as she fought for purchase on anything and instead finding nothing. Fingertips grazed her discarded clothing as she toppled into the water, the chilly river violently pulling the air from her lungs. Kallie felt the sickening crunch as her arm hit a rocky crevice and her body landed directly on top of her trapped arm. An anguished scream tore from her lips as Kallie managed to break her head through the surface of the water, air refilling her burning lungs.

Gingerly freeing her arm from the rocks, Kallie cradled her arm in her lap. Pain washed over Kallie as she inspected the break. Upon seeing splintered bone almost but not quite broken through her skin, nausea and dizziness joined the pain coursing through her. “Fuck!” Kallie cried out, biting down on the hand of her good arm as hot pain sliced through her. Turning towards the shack, Kallie was prepared to shout and burn down the building in a fit of rage. But the shout died on her lips as she turned around to see the wall devoid of the carving or any sign of it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kallie shouted and looked around her for a possible intruder, tears of frustration and pain welled in her eyes. Breath coming in ragged, short bursts, blinding rage overcame Kallie and she stood up in the river, turning towards the shack.

“YOL TOOR SHUL!” Fire burst forth, engulfing the shack in flames. It crackled as old, dried wood succumbed to the searing heat. Briefly satisfied, Kallie watched as the abandoned shack crumbled into ashes, the fire warm against her nude form. A crazed smiled graced her features as the wall that held the carving collapsed into itself and the rickety ceiling crumbled. Remembering her sleeping bag was still in the burning building, her smile faltered.

“If someone is watching, that is your one and only warning to fuck off!” Kallie yelled out into the void, hoping the person behind this sick joke got the message. She trudged out of the river in a careful manner so as not to further injure herself. Kallie needed to get some form of clothing on herself, lest she be taken into the Whiterun jails for indecency should someone see her. However, her day was about to continue plummeting, as Kallie spotted the rock she had placed her clothing on to see everything missing. Scanning the river, Kallie spied her boots floating too far down the river for her to catch. Even if she had not broken her arm, she probably would not manage to reach her clothing before plummeting down the waterfall in the distance. The winding path that followed the river was riddled with bandits and too dangerous for her to traverse with a broken arm.

“Oh for the love of—” Kallie collapsed onto the rock her now missing clothing had been perched on. Allowing herself to succumb to self-pity, Kallie dropped her head into her good arm and openly sobbed. Robbed of all energy and dealing with throbbing pain, Kallie was at a loss as to what to do. Grabbing her cloak off of Cricket, Kallie draped it over her as best as she could and crossed her legs in front of the fire. She was terrible with healing spells – she always had been. Magic was one of the things Kallie was absolutely, definitely, no good with. She was so terrible with magic, she had managed to fail out of the Mage’s College in Winterhold. Healing her arm on her own would definitely _not_ be happening. Kallie laughed to herself, remembering when she had drunkenly confessed her biggest flaw to Brynjolf.

_“You? The Dragonborn, breather of fire, slayer of dragons, flunked out of a college for magic? That’s why you always turned those jobs down? Because you’re too embarrassed to show your face there?” Brynjolf’s deep laughter echoed through the Ragged Flagon, tears rolling down his eyes, head thrown back in mirth._

_“Keep your voice down!” Kallie buried her face in her hands, the heat of embarrassment fanning over her features. Other occupants in the Flagon turned to see what their second in command found so hilarious._

_“I’m sorry, lass. It’s just…” Brynjolf spoke through wheezing laughter “You can shout magic words that are notoriously impossible to master, but you can’t use magic.” Brynjolf’s hand was draped across his chest as he fought to catch his breath. Kallie rolled her eyes at the man who was wiping tears from his eyes. She abruptly stood, face as red as a crimson nirnroot, and headed for the cistern. Brynjolf’s laughter echoed behind her._

Kallie could not help but wonder what would have happened had she waited for Brynjolf. Would the rune have shown up and forced Brynjolf to accept that she had been right the entire time? Or would have none of this happened and they’d both be well on their way to the outer limits of Whiterun by now? Kallie stared into the fire long after the embers died out both in the pit and the building behind her. The sun had risen high into the sky by now, indicating it was beyond midday but still Kallie had not moved.

“I have to go see Calcelmo.” Kallie blurted out to no one in particular. She had been arguing with herself over skipping the Whiterun meeting with Mallus, of which she was already on the fence about, and heading straight to Markarth to see Calcelmo about the runic carvings she had been seeing. He owed her a favor for helping win Faleen’s affection, even if she did technically break into his museum and bypass his slew of guards. He was not aware of that. With this third mysterious sighting, Kallie made up her mind that she could not wait any longer to see if Calcelmo had any knowledge of the carvings.

“Well ain’t this a surprise. I figured you dead, lass, considering I fished your boots and armor out of the river but they weren’t attached to your body.” Kallie’s head snapped at the sound of the familiar, masculine lilt from atop his dappled mount. Brynjolf’s face bore a furious expression, her soaked uniform clutched in his white-knuckled fist.

Overcome with anger at his audacity to be furious with divines know what, and his insistence that she was making up what she saw outside her house, Kallie grabbed the nearest rock she could find and hurled at him, grunting in rage. Luckily it was not her good arm that broke and she flung rock after rock at the ginger-haired Nord with alarming accuracy. Brynjolf dropped her clothing as his hands flew up to defend himself against the barrage.

“You bastard!” Kallie screamed in between sobs. “You were supposed to believe me!” Stumbling into the river in search of more artillery to hurl at the man, Kallie slipped back under the water. Brynjolf’s large hands closed around her broken arm and yanked her, screaming, up onto the bank.

“What the hell is wrong with you, lass? Why are you acting like a child?” Brynjolf’s arm once again circled the wrist of her broken arm, inspecting the break. He heaved a frustrated sigh, pulling his guild armor off his body and coaxing it on to his Guildmaster. Grabbing a pair of linen sleep pants from his bag, Brynjolf slipped them over Kallie’s legs. Grabbing one of the burnt planks of wood, Brynjolf stint Kallie’s arm to stabilize.

“We need to get you to the Temple of Kynareth to see Danica. She can mend your arm better than I can.” Circling his arm around Kallie’s waist, Brynjolf hoisted the woman up onto her feet and onto her mount. Securing what remained of her camp items on Cricket’s saddle, Brynjolf tied the horse’s bridle to the saddle of his. It was as if he was afraid Kallie would bolt. _His fears weren’t exactly unfounded._ Kallie thought to herself as she observed Brynjolf pack everything up.

“I’m not going to Whiterun.” Kallie blurted out. Brynjolf spun around to look at her, his face dark with anger.

“Listen here, lass. I woke up to find out you left on very important guild business without me. I race to catch up with you and what do I find in the river on my way to tracking you to Whiterun? Your guild armor. I thought you were dead, lass! I was scouring the river for your body, terrified I would find it or what remained of it! I wasn’t sure which unsettled me more—the prospect of finding your dead body, or never finding it at all!” Brynjolf shouted. Kallie clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes, unsure of how to respond.

“I left because of how incredibly hurt you made me feel that night, Bryn! Do you know why my arm is broken? I saw another carving! It terrified and angered me so much that I slipped and fell in the river, losing my clothing in the process of trying to grab my dagger to defend myself against whoever is stalking me!” Kallie turned and pointed at the burned hull of the shack she slept in. “I burned down a building in rage and sheer terror because I saw another one! And you merely think I made all this up! That I’m hallucinating or out of my mind, or, I don’t know on skooma or something!”

“Lass—”

“No!” Kallie shouted. “You listen to _me_ now, Brynjolf! You have the audacity to act like you were worried about me when you won’t even treat me like I mean something to you! You treat me like all I am to you is a warm body to sleep with! The other night you treated me like you thought I was going crazy and you know what? For a split second I believed it despite knowing what I saw because I value your opinion so much!” Kallie’s throat was raw but the seal she normally had on her lips broke and her thoughts broke through like water bursting through a dam.

“Do you know how exhausting it is to juggle being a Guildmaster and a second in command who both acts like he wants to be around me yet wants nothing to do with me? I get it you don’t want marriage or kids. Fine. It hurts because I so desperately want to spend my life and have a family with you, but fine. I yield to what you want. But you won’t give me an inch in return, Bryn! I’m not allowed to talk to you like I know you intimately when we are around anyone, guild or not! I’m not allowed to show affection to you outside of my home! And then you come into my home and treat me like I’m some sort of fool!”

Kallie yanked Cricket’s reins free from the saddle of Brynjolf’s horse. “I’m sorry to pull this card, Brynjolf, but as your Guildmaster, I demand you go speak to Mallus in my place. I’m headed to Markarth to figure out what the absolute fuck is going on with my life and why someone is stalking me with some strange runic carvings that are clearly some sort of weird, powerful magic.”

Kallie spurred her horse into a trot, leaving behind her stunned second in command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know any comments, questions, or criticism you have! They bring me great joy and I love responding to them!


	6. Loredas, First Seed, Whiterun

**Chapter 6: Loredas, First Seed, Whiterun  
  
  
**

“You certainly got yourself in a bit of trouble, didn’t you?” Danica draped a scratchy blanket over Kallie, slipping Brynjolf’s leather armor off her shoulders to closer inspect the break. The hard, cool stone of the bench was frigid against her naked frame, and Kallie had to fight the urge to shiver.

“I slipped in the river.” Kallie mumbled, face heating with embarrassment. She was much too exhausted to share the full story. Considering how Brynjolf, a man much more familiar with her than Danica was, purported her to be going out of her mind, she was not ready to confess the events to another individual.

“Well don’t worry, we will get you patched up and on your way in no time. You’re welcome to spend the night if you need it.” Danica worked quickly but carefully to mend the Dragonborn.

“I appreciate the hospitality but I have to get back on the road to Markarth.” The odds that Brynjolf was roaming the streets of Whiterun was relatively high. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that he had spotted Cricket at the stables and picked up that she was sheltered somewhere inside the walls. Understanding both she and Brynjolf had a terrible stubborn streak, they both needed some distance to calm down.

“Don’t forget to take some time to yourself, now. Divines know you’ve done more than enough for the people of Skyrim.” _I will when I’m dead._ Kallie mentally joked to herself, aware that her morbid sense of humor would have been lost on Danica.

“I apologize for waking you this late, I just didn’t know who else to go to and I certainly wouldn’t be able to do it myself.”

“Well whoever splint your arm knows what they are doing.” Danica flashed a warm smile down at Kallie. Her heart wrenched in response and she struggled to smile back. She had always admired Brynjolf’s abilities to nurse the guild members back to health, recalling the amount of care he placed into each individual unlucky enough to need more than a potion and a good night’s sleep to recover. There had been plenty nights when Brynjolf had fussed over her in Honeyside, starting well before Mercer Frey and the events of Nightingale. _Where did that man go?_

She remembered the disappearance of the man she knew very well, as Brynjolf drastically changed. After Mercer Frey and her assuming the role of Guildmaster it was as if something came over him. Everything physical between them had still been fledgling, but there was not a single person in the guild who didn’t already know there was an unbreakable bond between the two of them. It was not a secret that Brynjolf and Kallie deeply cared for each other, it just wasn’t common knowledge that they were also sharing a bed. She didn’t question it at first, as Brynjolf had sounded logical in the beginning. His desire to keep anything romantic or physical quiet as she eased into her new title made sense at the time, but with nearly two years under her belt, the excuses were beyond stale. Before Mercer’s betrayal, Brynjolf was more playful, affectionate even. But then he began insisting anything that was not strictly business be kept away from the other guild members. Vex catching them in the Ratway cemented the notion in Brynjolf’s head that absolutely nothing, physical or emotional, could happen outside of the privacy of Honeyside.

“Are you alright?” Danica gave Kallie a worried glance and placed her hands on her hips like a fretting mother. “I asked you if you were in any pain, but you didn’t respond. You’ve got this strange look on your face.”

“What? Oh, yeah sorry. Just thinking.” Kallie offered Danica a friendly smile to appease her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night? You look like a good night’s rest would do you some good.” Kallie shook her head.

  
“Alright, then. Anyway, I am glad you stopped in. Traveling around Skyrim with a broken arm would certainly mean your death, Dragonborn or not.” Danica patched Kallie’s arm, resetting the bone to heal properly. Danica drew her hand over Kallie’s broken arm, enveloping it in a soft, golden glow. A pleasant warmth spread through her body, radiating from the arm as the priestess worked towards mending it.

“That should do it.” The healing glow faded, and Kallie gingerly prodded her arm, still tender to the touch.

“Give it a few days to heal properly. The bone is reset but the soreness will still be there for a few days. Try not to get in _too_ much trouble on your way to Markarth.” A playful smirk graced Danica’s lips, knowing full well that Kallie drew attention regardless of how well she tried to behave.

“Thank you again for your hospitality.” Danica helped Kallie thread her arm through the sleeve of Brynjolf’s armor before sending her on her way with a bag full of potions.

Kallie picked up a few _discounted_ items from Belethor’s shop on her way out of the city, stuffing them in the bag Danica gifted her. The man did put her off and she was always happy to annoy him. Pulling the too-large armor tighter around her (a smile tugged at her lips at the thought of Brynjolf attempting to shove his broad shoulders into her much smaller, ill-fitting armor), Kallie headed towards the stables as swiftly and quietly as her legs would allow her to travel. She almost made it when she saw Brynjolf’s silhouette resting on the pole where Cricket was tied. She stopped on her tracks, eyes narrowing in anger.

“What do you want?” Kallie crossed her arms, wincing at the soreness from the recent break. Brynjolf, who at some point changed into his fine robes, slowly approached Kallie with his hands up in surrender.

“I just want to talk.” Brynjolf pleaded.

“No.” Kallie held her ground.

“Look, lass I didn’t mean to upset you. Can we please talk?” Brynjolf took one more hesitant step towards his Guildmaster, mentally weighing the chances of her lunging at him with her fists cocked.

“It’s not just that you _upset_ me, you ass, it’s that you completely humiliated me in my own home and have been so selfish and disrespectful to me ever since I became Guildmaster! I’ve had enough, Brynjolf! I’ve been begging to talk for months!” Kallie did her best to keep her voice down, lest they alert any lurking guards, but in exchange it left her with clenched fists and a tense body as she put all of her energy into _not_ shouting down the man in front of her. Brynjolf took a deep, steadying breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut.

“You’re right. You are absolutely right, lass. I was a complete ass to you both in and out of the guild. I am sorry I took everything out on you at the river. I was just so terrified when I found your armor, but you were missing. It threw me back to the days of Mercer Frey and I thought I’d lost you again, lass.” Brynjolf gambled by taking a few steps closer to Kallie. He hesitantly reached his hand out and placed it on her shoulder. “I have been so terrified of losing you it’s all I consumed myself with ever since that night when Mercer returned and said you were dead. Every scenario of you dying because I made the decision to place you as Guildmaster has crossed my mind. I am terrified of losing you. Because of this war, because you are the Dragonborn, and because you are the Guildmaster. I see the letters they send you, lass. I know both sides are trying to recruit you. I let those thoughts get into my head and control how I treat you. I thought that the fewer the number of people who knew about us, the safer I could make your life.” Brynjolf looked as close to tears as she had ever seen him. Her stubborn willpower melted away.

_No,_ Kallie reminded herself. She tilted her chin up in defiance but said nothing, forcing Brynjolf to fill the uncomfortable silence. His fears of her death and his decisions regarding them still did not account for how he refused to let her speak her opinions to him and have an honest conversation about their future. Part of her was starting to wonder if his blatant refusal to acknowledge their relationship was less over his worship of Dibella and ties to the guild, and more his fears of putting someone else’s life in danger.  
  


“Please, lass, just give me a moment of your time. I will go see Mallus for you. I am sorry for getting angry when I found you. I am willing to listen to you.” Kallie sighed, kicking the ground with her boot, disturbing a few small rocks from the soil as if it were more entertaining than watching Brynjolf.

“Brynjolf, why is it that when you finally want to have another conversation I am expected to yield, but every time I have asked for the same, you have some excuse or tell me you’re too busy for me?” The burning question had been in the back of Kallie’s mind ever since the last time they’d properly argued about their relationship. “ _Sorry lass, I’m busy. We’ll talk later”_ rung through her head.

“We have argued one time too many about what I mean to you, Bryn.” Kallie felt her throat tighten at the words she knew she had to say but didn’t want to. “You were right, we are not good for each other. At all. I want what you won’t give me, and I won’t give you what you want.”

“Perhaps it’s best we’d just stick with a professional relationship then, eh lass?” Brynjolf looked at Kallie with such a wrenching sadness and regret, Kallie wished the ground would open up and grant her an end to this uncomfortable misery. She reached deep into her pool of memories for happier moments with Brynjolf, but they wrapped around her heart like a vice and squeezed with such a relentless force, Kallie had to consciously fight to breathe. She wanted those memories back. She wanted that Brynjolf back. The Brynjolf before Mercer Frey, before her assuming title of Guildmaster. _Nope, can’t do this._

Swiping at a rogue tear, Kallie looked directly into the green eyes that were watching her. She wanted Brynjolf to fight for this, but in her heart she knew it wouldn’t happen. Of course, now he chose to listen to her instead of fight. They really were too different. Brynjolf had said it himself during one of their more heated arguments, when she again brought up marriage and settling down.— _“Why worship Mara and all that nonsense when you can have more freedom through Dibella, lass?”_

“That’s the only _relationship_ we’ve ever had.” Spotting her armor on the back of the saddle of Brynjolf’s horse, Kallie sheepishly walked past Brynjolf, slipping off his armor and exchanging it with hers. She heard him approach behind her as she moved to mount Cricket. Brynjolf reached to cover her hand in his as she gripped the saddle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you space to talk. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel wanted and that I treated you like a dirty secret. I cannot take back what I did, but lass, I do hope you will forgive me. Even if it takes me a long time to deserve that forgiveness. You deserve better than what I gave you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted but took everything I could from you.” The Brynjolf she remembered was showing through the cracks of the tough exterior. Sensing Brynjolf’s sadness, Kallie did not have the strength to turn and face the Nord. _Coward,_ Kallie yelled at herself.

“Thank you for apologizing, Bryn. But you were right. I want a family. I’ve had enough adventure to last me many lifetimes and want to start thinking about slowing down. You want freedom. In some ways I envy you, but at the end of the day I want what I want. It’s not fair to either of us to give up too much of who we are. Thank you for going to see Mallus for me.” She felt Brynjolf step away from her and she hiked herself up onto her mount.

“I still love you.” She spoke quietly but was unsure if Brynjolf heard it, and to be honest, uncaring whether he did.

“For what it’s worth, lass, you were ever the only one if that was ever on your mind. Please take care of yourself. Thank you for going to see Danica and getting that arm looked at, you had me worried. Promise me you will come back to the guild in one piece. I’ll come clean to everyone about our history. I’ll be waiting for you there and if you want to talk, about anything at all, don’t hesitate to approach me.” Kallie risked a glance down at her second in command and wished she hadn’t, as she felt her throat tighten uncomfortably. She struggled to steady her voice.

“I don’t know how long I will be gone, but I promise I will be back.” Kallie forced a watery smile as a peace offering. Perhaps some distance would do them both some good. She made it all the way to the Western watchtower before falling forward into Cricket’s mane, sobbing.

\---  
  


**Tirdas, Rain’s Hand, Understone Keep**

  
  


Kallie unceremoniously dropped her journal on Calcelmo’s worktable, startling the elderly Altmer.

“Are you out of your mind? I have valuable research material here!” Calcelmo swatted the offending journal off his documents. Kallie eyed a few gems beneath the mountain of papers she’d be back for after dark.

“I have been calling your name trying to get your attention, but it seems you don’t care about anything I’ve been doing to wrestle you away from your research.” _Such as me swiping that set of silver rings off your alchemy table._ Calcelmo did have an annoying habit of tuning anything out that wasn’t a Dwemer artifact.

“Yes, yes, well what do you need?” Calcelmo crossed his arms, annoyed at the interruption.

“Ever so friendly, aren’t you?” Kallie leaned her hip against the table, pointing her chin towards her journal she deposited in front of the man. “I need your help deciphering some runes.”

“I can see if I am able to be of assistance. However, as you know my knowledge is with the Dwemer and if these are not related to the ancient people, I cannot guarantee anything helpful.” Kallie flipped open the pages of her notes that held her crude drawings of the three runic carvings. She launched into the story of how each one was discovered, leaving out minor details of course.

“Oh my.” Calcelmo picked up her journal and brought it closer to his eyes, scouring the pages. Kallie perked up, hopeful he would indeed be able to help her.

“Is that a good ‘oh my’ or a bad one?”

“I believe I may be able to assist you, but I am afraid I will need you to do me a favor, as I do not have time or the stamina to travel across Skyrim in my age.”

“Well I guess let’s start with telling me what you think you know.” Calcelmo placed the book back down on the table, hunching over it like he was wont to do in the middle of his research.

“These may be ancient Altmer runes. Immensely powerful magic used to communicate before written language. If these are what I believe them to be, then whoever is sending them is incredibly powerful and is attempting to send you a message. But…”

“But you’re not sure.” Kallie finished.

“That is correct. As I said, these are ancient, and I do mean ancient, as in before written history. Although I am of Altmer origin, my expertise is not in my own race but that of the Dwemer. It is entirely possible someone is attempting to communicate with you through them, but again, without additional knowledge, I cannot be sure. I can point you in the right direction, but I do not hold all the answers myself.”

“What do you need from me in order to help decipher if these are ancient Altmer runes, and what they mean?”

“Well, as I said, these are from pre-recorded history, meaning there might not be any known written material on them. But if there was, there is only one person I know who would probably have a book that would be useful.” Kallie’s stomach flipped, having a haunch she knew where Calcelmo was about to ask her to travel to, and it was the last place she wanted to go.

Steeling her nerves, Kallie spoke to the elderly man. “Where exactly am I going?”

“Urag gro-Shub at the Arcanaeum in the Mage’s College will likely have some sort of material on the runes, if these are in fact them.” Kallie groaned, rubbing her hand across her eyes. She did _not_ want to face the college.

“What’s wrong? I figured you’d appreciate the adventure?” Calcelmo looked at Kallie curiously, brows furrowed in confusion.

“No, it’s not that. I was just…” Kallie scrambled for a lie. “I was hoping it would be simpler than that, as I really want to get to the bottom of this.” That part was true, at least.

“I am not too sure these are what I believe them to be and unfortunately Urag is the only person I know who would likely be of any help. I suggest you get going if you wish to have this sorted quickly.” Calcelmo turned back to his research, tossing Kallie’s book aside, indicating the conversation was over. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Kallie left the man to his research and retreated for the stables to begin her dreaded journey. She would be back for those gems on the table later but could not resist pocketing a few spare valuables on her way out. She was a thief at heart, after all. Brynjolf had always called her a magpie, unable to resist shiny things.

“Wait! I have a letter for you!” Kallie stopped in her tracks just a few strides short of the main doors of the city. Turning, Kallie spotted a young man in Imperial armor, recognizing him as one of their couriers. The man reached into his bag and fished out a letter bearing the official seal of the Imperial Army. Kallie immediately recognized the letter and knew what would be inside. The Stormcloak courier had sent a similar letter a few weeks prior.

_Kallie,_

_The Imperial Army has made several attempts to reach out to you. It is imperative the Empire’s control be maintained in this Civil War, and thus we are once again reaching out in the hopes you will lend your aid to the Empire as a good citizen of Tamriel. We strongly urge you to consider joining the Imperial Army in the good fight against the Stormcloak Rebellion. The assistance of the Dragonborn would revitalize the spirits of all who fight for the Empire._

_Signed,_

_General Tullius_

Kallie rolled her eyes, crumpling the paper in her fist. The courier looked at her expectantly, clearly instructed to wait for a response this time. _At least they’re starting to learn._

“I’m sorry but I am not interested in joining _any_ side of this war, and that is the answer you are going to have to bring back to General Tullius. I am in disagreement with both sides and am not interested in helping.” Kallie turned on her heel, pushing the heavy, gilded doors open to Skyrim. Avoiding Brynjolf was one challenge but avoiding both the Imperials and the Stormcloaks was an entirely different matter. This war could not end quickly enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments/feedback/questions you may have! I try to respond to everyone! 
> 
> Don't worry, things are not over with Brynjolf but he certainly isn't getting off that easily! Buckle in because from here on out the story is going to pick up as we get to the bottom of the runes and more plot. Do mind the tags - I will do my best to provide applicable tags for each chapter that may have triggering content. If there are any tags I have forgotten as I add to this story, I will update the story's summary page with them.


	7. Sundas, Rain's Hand, The Pale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for not only the long wait for this chapter but also the short length of it! We've had a rough few weeks here, as our basement flooded after three straight days of torrential rainfall, and my husband's place of employment notified us that someone in his building tested positive for COVID. So we have been pretty stressed out and busy here, and I admit I have not had the energy or desire to write. This chapter ended up being mostly a flashback, although my original plans were to include more to this chapter in the present, which has been split in two parts in order to get something out to you all.
> 
> This story will by no means be abandoned, but the next few chapters might take slightly longer than usual for me to write and post! Thank you for all of your patience!!!

Chapter Seven: Sundas, Rain's Hand, The Pale

She was trying to stay south of the mountains for as long as possible. Snowy peaks of the mountains were only a few hours travel, and then she would be forced to properly confront the snow. Although born with a natural resistance to cold and frost, Kallie still abhorred the snow and preferred to spend Skyrim winters indoors. The corners of Kallie’s lips tugged upwards involuntarily, and she felt a pull in her heart as she thought back to the last winter before her rise to Guildmaster. The last winter before cracks started to form between the bond she shared with Brynjolf.  
  


_Bryn_ _jolf stoked the embers of the dying fire in Honeyside, a pleasant silence hanging in the air. Kallie slid out of the warm bed and snaked her arms around him from behind, bare flesh meeting bare flesh. The late hour of the night did little to entice the thieves to sleep, the howling wind rattling against the windowpanes and threatening to blow the door open and push cold, winter air inside. Kallie shivered involuntarily against Brynjolf’s back.  
  
_

_“Cold, my little Nightingale?” Brynjolf reached behind him and grasped Kallie’s wrist, gently pulling her between him and the fire. “I could help you warm up, if you’re interested.” Fire danced within Brynjolf’s eyes as he waited for an acceptance to his offer.  
  
_

_“You are insatiable.” Kallie laughed pushing Brynjolf towards the bed until the back of his knees hit the wood frame._

_  
  
_

_“Aye, lass.” Brynjolf’s face lit up with a warm smile. “But it would appear you are as well.” Brynjolf tumbled backwards onto the bed, pulling Kallie by her waist with him. A shriek from the startled woman prompted a raucous string of laughter from Brynjolf. He rolled on top of the woman, pinning her under him and silenced her shrieks with a bruising kiss, a commanding hand at her throat as his lips moved down her jawline. He would take what he could from her, but she would always give it freely. That was the summation of their relationship, although that word had never been confirmed by the man staring down at the woman, eyes glazed over as he pushed them both to the edge._

_\--_

Shaking her head to break free from her trance, Kallie felt herself get pulled back into a different memory. Brynjolf had told her once, amongst the myriad of reasons he had given when she had pried before, that it was about control. The need to have it, and fully own at least one aspect of his life as a thief where luck and skill only got so far.

_“But what if the person understood that and loved you anyway?” Kallie asked hesitantly. They were laid under the stars, halfway between Whiterun and Solitude on her first special job as Guildmaster. Brynjolf turned to look at the smaller Nord on the grass next to him, eyes filled with grief._

_“I’d have guilt. Guilt that I hold so much power and control over that other person because of a decision I made for myself. I couldn’t hold that over someone else’s head, lass. It would be unfair to them.” Kallie nodded, feeling her throat tighten as she pushed back a wave of sorrow._

_“What if it’s j_ _ust fear? What if it isn’t really about control or not wanting a family?” Kallie prodded eventually, after she managed to steady her voice and trust it to speak without wavering._

_“Me? Fear commitment?” Brynjolf laughed but it come out more as a huff of frustration. “Lass, you don’t make it this far as a thief in the guild if you fear commitment.” Kallie frowned, but chose to say nothing, knowing it would be useless._

_“Look, lass. I care so deeply for you.” Brynjolf turned to his side and pulled Kallie’s chin up so she had no choice but to look at the man._

_“I really do, lass. And it hurts me that I cannot give you what you want. Do I fear losing you if we were to enter anything serious? Absolutely. I fear for everyone in the guild. Things have not exactly been easy around here lately. But with things looking up, all thanks to you my little nightingale, it’s only going to get more dangerous as our presence grows. I really do not want to fight about this, lass. I’m sorry.”_   
  


“What happened to us?” The upward pull of Kallie’s lips melted into a frown. She looked to the cloudy and quickly darkening sky for answers, knowing she would not receive any. Swinging her leg over Cricket’s saddle, Kallie dismounted the horse and settled in to make a camp for the night. She could have pressed her luck and pushed further up into the mountains but would have likely risked dangerous conditions if she got caught in a snowstorm before she could get a fire and shelter set. Wrapping herself in the piles of furs and blankets she travelled with, the Nord settled in to sleep and get an early start up into the mountains.

\--

With a groan of discomfort that came from sleeping outdoors, Kallie lazily opened her eyes. There was a kink in her neck that she knew would grow to be a problem as the day progressed, but she could not wait another day.

“The sooner I get this trip to the college over with, the sooner I can never step foot there again.” Kallie poured water from her traveling skin into her hand and splashed it onto her face to wake her up. Gingerly standing up, lest she put strain on her recently healed arm, Kallie gathered her belongings and packed them away.

Kallie regretted allowing herself a moment to pause and stare out into the open lands of Skyrim for there, just beyond the rocky hill she was camped on, was the unmistakable carving of a rune. Only this time, right beside the figure carved into one of the many large and flat rocks, was a second one. Kallie’s screams of frustration echoed deep into the mountains.


End file.
